


Pie Is Best When Shared

by joufancyhuh



Series: Starkhaven's Finest [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Ex-Templar Trevelyan, Gen, Harvestmere, NonInquisitor, Pre Inquisition, Set in Kirkwall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-09-24
Packaged: 2020-10-27 05:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20755091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joufancyhuh/pseuds/joufancyhuh
Summary: Harvestmere arrives, bringing back some old memories.





	Pie Is Best When Shared

**Author's Note:**

> When I found out what Harvestmere was, I knew I had to write something. I didn't think it was going to be for this couple though.

“Harvestmere already?”

Evelyn plunked down on the bench across from Rylen, who paused with a fork full of apple pie headed towards his open mouth. Around them, The Hanged Man bustled, and more than a few patrons tossed hungry glances toward the table, no doubt wishing for a taste of the sweet smelling dessert situated in front of the Knight-Captain like a personal plate. 

When Norah passed by to grab Evelyn’s order -the usual, and whatever’s in the pot for dinner- Rylen proceeded to finish his bite and scoop up some more for the next one. He grinned when Evelyn turned back to him, bits of crust sprinkled around in his beard. “I wonder what gave it away.” 

Her greaves slid off and ended up in a pile next to her on the table. She considered going back to her room to change from the heavy armor, but the mere thought of upstairs then back down, only to return there later tired her out. Clean-up kicked her ass today, so hard that she almost wished to rejoin the rebuilding efforts instead. Elbow dug into the table, she leaned her cheek on her hand, her stomach rumbling while watching her companion shovel pie into his mouth. 

“I can’t believe your mom still sends you a homemade pie every year.” She rolled her eyes, pretending her damndest not to give notice of the jealousy taking root inside of her. Only her brothers thought of her on holidays, Aidan sending a bit of coin her way, Devlin likely to show up to spread his  _ holiday cheer _ to any interested friends of hers. And Harvestmere was such a minor one at that, based around the harvesting of apples from under a tree where Andraste once sat. Did the Trevelyans even remember her today? 

In between his bites, he gave a small chuckle. “She sends them to all my brothers and their families. Graham tried to tell Mamaidh one year that he didn’t like apples anymore, and Mamaidh sent him two pies that year out of spite.” His fork broke into the flaky crust as it scooped up a sizeable helping; Rylen ate as if vultures planned to swoop down and steal his delicacy, which given the amount of stares in the tavern, seemed plausible. “I forgot you knew about her pies.” 

“Well, we did serve together for a couple of years.”  _ Where you rubbed it in my face every time one got delivered _ , she considered tacking on, but then decided better to bite her tongue. Starting fresh meant not bringing up the awful and mean things they did to each other, even if sitting here and watching him eat bordered on that same cruelty. 

Her drink arrived, but not without obvious longing on Norah’s face as her gaze flickered more than a few times to the table. With no Chantry and no Viscountess, only a few barrels of apples made it to Kirkwall. Rylen played with fire, eating his treat out in the open as he did. Maybe the sword on his hip and the fact that Evelyn had a fast growing reputation of no bullshit led the predators to linger in their corners. 

“I’m well aware we served together, brat,” Rylen said, jabbing his crumby fork in her direction. “I only mean, I didn’t think you’d remember that out of,” the fork waved in a circle, flinging small bits of food around the table, “ _ everything _ .” 

Feigning nonchalance, she offered a small shrug, though the armor made it appear bigger. The pies, and the care packages in general, always stuck out to her because it was something a nice, normal mother might do. And they smelled so good. Denying her a taste only cemented the memory of the pies. 

Rylen’s blue eyes burned as they lingered on her face, an odd glimmer to them as he grinned. Scooping up another bite, he held out his fork to her. “Did you want a bite?”

“So you can pull it back at the last second?” Her lips pinched together, narrowing her gaze as it flickered between the pie and his face. “What’s the catch?” 

This time, he shrugged. “I just realized I’ve never offered you any. Ever. Mamaidh makes the best pies in Starkhaven-”

“So you’ve said before.”

“-and I thought you might want to stop staring with those damn doe eyes of yours and actually have a piece.” 

Her chest grew hot as a flush swept across her face and down her neck. “I’m not - I wasn’t staring.” But her stomach protested, a loud echo of emptiness coming from inside her armor. She wanted the floor to open beneath her seat and swallow her, or melt inside her armor until he stopped giving her that surprised but amused look. 

“Fuck it, fine,” she murmured, reaching out to pluck the fork from his hand. Her tastebuds sang praise as the pie hit her tongue, gooey sweet goodness mixed with sugary apple chunks and flaky, moist crust. Rylen was right on this being the best pie in Starkhaven, let alone anywhere in existence. 

He nodded. “Good, right?” And called Norah over for another fork as the pie tray slid to the center of their table. 


End file.
